%. 


o  /*>>.%^. 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0 


I.I 


1.25 




u 


M 

2.2 
2.0 


11= 

1-4    ill  1.6 


<^%  "^  > 


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y 


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CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHM/ICMH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  Institut  Canadian  de  microreproductions  historiques 

1980 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes/Notes  techniques  et  bibliographiques 


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D 
D 
D 
D 
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n 


n 


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32X 


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dernidre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
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d'impression  ou  d'illustration  et  en  terminant  par 
la  dernidre  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 

Un  des  symboles  suivants  apparattra  sur  la 
dernidre  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  selon  le 
cas:  le  symbole  — ►  signifie  "A  SUIVRE",  le 
symbole  V  signifie  "FIN". 

Les  cartes,  planches,  tableaux,  etc.,  peuvent  dtre 
film6s  d  des  taux  de  reduction  diffdrents. 
Lorsque  le  aocument  est  trop  grand  pour  dtre 
reproduit  en  un  seul  clichd,  il  est  film6  d  partir 
de  Tangle  sup6rieur  gauche,  de  gauche  d  droite, 
et  de  haut  en  bas,  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'images  ndcessaire.  Les  diagrammes  suivants 
illustrent  la  mdthode. 


1 

2 

3 

1 


5 


6 


1 


A      GARLAND       OF       SONNETS 


. 


^•v? 


UL*t 


A  GARLAND  OF  SONNETS 

BY 

CRAVEN  LANGSTROTH  BETTS 

In  Praise  of  the  Poets 

INGOMAR—Of  what  use  are  garlands? 
PARTHENIA— Their  use  is  to   be  fair. 


Imprinted  for  and  Published  by  M.  F.  MANSFIELD 
AND  A.  WESSELS,  at  1135  Broadway,  New  York 
ANNO  DOMINI,        MDCCCXCIX. 


CS 


..>^^S^ 


'  ^^'^'■'^^^.^ 


ft' 


Copyright,  1899,  by 

M.  P.  Mansfield  and  A.  Wessels 

New  York 


ft 
PS  -^So-i 


1899,  by 
Wessela 
!w  York 


CONTENTS 


HOMER 

i 

SCHILLER  . 

xviii 

CHAUCER 

ii 

GOETHE 

xix 

TASSO 

iii 

BERANGER 

XX 

SPENSER     . 

iv 

HUGO    . 

xxi 

MARLOWE 

V 

TENNYSON 

xxii 

SHAKESPERE 

vi 

BROWNING 

xxiii 

MILTON 

vii 

ARNOLD 

xxiv 

DRYDEN      . 

viii 

BAYARD  TAYLOR 

XXV 

POPE     . 

ix 

EMERSON    . 

xxvi 

BURNS 

X 

LONGFELLOW 

xxvii 

SCOTT 

xi 

LOWELL     . 

.    xxviii 

BYRON 

xii 

WHITTIER 

xxix 

KEATS 

xiii 

WHITMAN 

XXX 

SHELLEY    . 

xiv 

MORRIS 

xxxi 

COLERIDGE 

XV 

KIPLING      . 

xxxii 

WORDSWORTH 

xvi 

MISTRAL     . 

xxxiii 

HOOD    .        .         .         . 

xvii 

L'ENVOI 

\    ■  \ 


I 


<2^5'73 


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I 


To     TITUS   mUNSON    COAN 
True    poet   fine   critic,  and  genial  friend. 


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A 


a. 


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FOREWORD 

Child  of  Petrarch  and  the  lyric  muse,  thou  wert  born  in  the 
days  of  Chivalry  and  Romance,  and  all  thy  earliest  youth  was 
touched  by  Love.  Angelo,  the  immortal,  found  for  thee  a  deeper 
note,  and  the  magnificent  Lorenzo  gave  thee  added  grace.  Next, 
those  twins  of  English  rhyme,  Surrey  and  Wyatt,  rescued  thee 
from  the  neglect  of  Fame,  and  nourished  thee  on  English  ground. 
"The  gentle  Spenser  loved  thee,"  and  the  high-born  Sydney  was 
thy  servitor. 

But  thy  crowning  glory  was  to  be  the  guest  of  Shakespere, 
the  Prince  of  Song.  He  took  from  thee  thy  Italian  mantle  and 
decked  thee  in  his  own  royal  robes.  No  man  shall  henceforth  do 
thee  ampler  honor.  Under  the  hand  of  the  mighty  Milton  thou 
obtained  an  organ  tone — thy  note  of  Reverence  and  Prayer.  But 
the  degenerate  children  of  English  Song  abjured  thee  or  gave  but 
grudging  habitation,  until  Wordsworth,  Priest  of  Nature,  ushered 
thee  into  his  calm  and  stately  cloisters.  There  thy  plastic  soul 
took  on  fresh  harmonies  and  delights ;  new  aspirations,  fair  hopes, 
sweet  consolations  and  confidings.  In  thy  turn  thou  becamest  a 
teacher  of  men ;  and  henceforth  thou  must  remain  the  favored 
heir  of  the  English  Muse. 

It  behooves  not  to  tell  of  all  the  illustrious  masters  who  have 


t 

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taken  thee  to  their  hearts.  The  Old  World  still  loves  thy  ordered 
walk,  and  the  New  has  opened  wide  its  doors  and  enriched  thee. 
To  each  hast  thou  spoken  in  a  different  key,  for  thy  nature  is 
variant  as  the  flowers  of  mountain  and  field,  of  garden  and  forest. 
Of  all  the  children  of  Song,  I,  dwelling  in  the  strict  bonds  of 
rhyme,  love  thee  best,  for,  if  thou  demandest  much,  thy  favors  are 
bountiful  to  them  who  worthily  seek  thee. 

But  for  them  not  of  the  true  Brotherhood,  wilt  thou  dig  a  pit- 
fall and  cover  the  pretender  and  the  careless  wooer  with  shame. 
Therefore,  O  Sonnet,  may  my  feet  tread  reverently  in  thy  service, 
and  in  the  name  of  these  Masters  be  all  this  my  cherishing  of  thee 
—so  Shalt  thou  obtain  the  larger  honor  and  I  perchance  a  favor 
more  sweet.  For  my  offering  I  bespeak  the  good-will  of  all 
true  votaries  of  the  Muse,  and  of  all  others  who  worship  and  love 
her  but  have  been  holden  from  bringing  gifts  to  her  shrine.  In 
their  hands  I  leave  thee,  beloved  Sonnet,  my  companion  and 
the  solace  of  my  heart !  C    L    B 


m 


The  thinks  of  the  Author  are  due  to   the  "Outlook"   {Ne<w 

York)    for   permission   to    use    the    Sonnets    on  Chaucer,   Spenser, 

&nd  Morris,    and  to   Jrederick  Keppel  &    Co,  for    reproducing   sl 
number  of  portraits. 


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HOMER 

Time  hath  no  shore,  nor  History  port  for  thee, 

Thou  first  great  admiral  of  the  fleets  of  Song  I 

To  thee  the  winds,  the  waves,  the  clouds  belong — 

The  heart  and  brain  of  broad  humanity. 

Thy  theme,  swift-winged,  an  eagle's  flight,  and  free. 

Far-seeing,  sweeps  this  varied  world  along. 

Wide-shadowing  all  the  crawling,  flutter  ng  throng. 

Unbounded  as  the  shining,  thundering  sea ! 


From  thy  vast  coffers  kinsmen,  age  on  age. 

Have  stored  their  treasuries  to  remint  the  gold ; 

Through  thee  the  smooth-lipped  alien  hath  grown  bold, 

While  wise  Ulysses'  guile,  Achilles'  rage. 

Doomed  Hector's  love,  from  thy  dead  tongue  are  rolled^ 

And  still  dead  gods  gigantic  battle  wage  ! 


♦-lall 


^  \ 


H  A  U  C  E  R 


he  heart  of  Merrie  England  sang  in  thee, 
an  Chaucer,  blithest  of  the  sons  of  Morn  ! 
ow  from  that  dim  and  mellow  distance  borne 
ome  floating  down  thy  measures  pure  and  free, 
'l^instrel  of  Pilgrim  pleasaunce  !  Pagentry, 
'*  nd  Revel,  blowing  from  his  drinking-horn 
he  froth  of  malt,  and  Love  that  dwells  forlorn — 
ngland  shall  live  in  these  that  live  through-thee ! 


'hine  is  the  jocund  Springtime  ; — winsome  May, 
'rowned  with  her  daisies,  wooed  thee,  clerkly  wight ! 
'he  breath  of  pastoral  cheer  is  in  thy  lay, 
Lnd  in  thy  graver  verse  thy  nation's  might. 
I,  Pan-pipe,  blown  at  England's  break  of  day, 
Le-echo  through  her  noon  thy  clear  delight ! 

II 


y 


J 


1 


1 


A  S  S  O 


irove  gilds  thy  laurel, — love  was  found  thy  blame  ; 

yet,  brightest  in  the  dungeon  shone  thy  muse, 
fot  Este,  no,  nor  Italy,  might  refuse 
'hy  due — the  poet's  wreath,  the  deathless  name. 

Thine  honor  lustres  in  thy  tyrant's  shame  ; 

The  cold  cell's  damps  were  Inspiration's  dews  ; 

The  world  hath  won  through  what  thy  hope  did  lose, 

0h,  Tasso,  king  of  hearts,  and  heir  of  fame  ! 


I 


Ferrara's  court,  by  that  impassioned  dream 

Honored  and  blest,  grew  envious  and  ingrate  ; 

p,  knightliest  bard!  Rinaldo's  hero-gleam 

Is  thine,  thrice  glorified;  thy  proud  estate. 

The  Lyre,  the  Sword,  and  Love — in  each  supreme ; 

l^ife's  splendid  offering  at  the  throne  of  Fate  ! 

Ill 


}  'I  ? 


l-L     . 


I 


I  i 


u 


i.. 


hU 


I 


P  E  N  S  E  R 


've  watched  him  stroll  with  Raleigh  by  the  wood, 
pr  Sidney,  near  the  Mulla's  rippling  brim, 
While  Nature  crooned  her  Summer-evening  hymn, 
ill  o'er  the  fields  the  new^  moon's  syckle  stood, 
've  heard  calm  words  of  courtly  brotherhood 
hime  like  an  Angelus  through  the  ages  dim, 
nd  they,  whom  all  else  honored,  honored  him, 
|tf  y  Spenser,  votary  of  the  Holy  Rood. 


Yhey  rose  and  passed  through  Honor's  troubled  sky ; 
flach  quenched  in  blood  his  fitful,  fervent  star  ; 
Me  dwelt  apart,  unknown,  and  fixed  his  eye 
^here  aureoled  Beauty  beckoned  him  afar. 
*hy  Lion,  Maid,  and  Knight  can  never  die, 
(b  Childe,  for  of  them  England's  glories  are  ! 

1  IV 


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11 


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k. 


MARLOWE 


i 


or  him  the  ancient  heavens  relumed  their  fires 
And  starred  his  crown  of  song  with  lambent  gleams  ; 
While  Hero's  torch  a  nightly  cresset  beams 
For  all  Leanders  of  wide-winged  desires ; 
Yet  dark  and  thundrous,  as  when  Faust  expires, 
And  fraught  with  lightning  stands  the  mount  of  dreams 
Down  which  the  lava  of  his  passion  streams, 
Or  soars  from  off  its  cloud-enshrouded  pyres. 


He  was  the  Baptist  heralding  the  morn 
Of  Poesy's  adored  Prince  of  Light. 
He  hath  no  sponsor  save  his  muse  forlorn  ; 
A  voice  all  sweetness  and  impetuous  might, 
heart  unbridled  and  a  hope  death-shorn 
temains — and  squandered  blood  that  hides  from  sight ! 

V 


1,  I 


ji 


fi, 


V/',/  U- 


SHAKESPERE 

When  the  brave  tackle  of  Life's  craft  is  torn, 
And  Hope's  high  penn'^n  frays  before  the  blast, 
My  star  of  guidance  va  lished  in  the  Vast, 
And  the  dun  night  grown  deathful  and  forlorn — 
Then,  turning  fain  to  thee,  the  gates  of  Morn 
Swing  heaven-wide,  and  the  clouds,  all  overcast, 
Are  rolled  from  sight ;  the  rocks  and  shoals  are  passed  ; 
Safe  on  thy  affluent  ocean  I  am  borne  ! 


There  I  hear  Ariel  singing;  there  they  file, 
The  winged  sea  creatures,  to  their  mystic  lair ; 
There  with  unnumbered  kiss  fair  Morning's  smile 
Blazons  the  waters,  vivifies  the  air; 
While  down  the  spangled  deeps,  in  sportive  guile, 
The  sea-nymphs  flash  their  ivory  arms  in  air ! 

VI 


!  ^■'<] 


i,    I 


I 


»i^f<iwp^>w«^.» » w%r»  1 1 


sz 


I  L  T  O  N 

lor  thrice  ten  years  the  paladin's  hand  and  brain 
[pheld  thine  altar,  Freedom,  o'er  thy  land  ! 
[hen  Heaven  those  later  lustres  did  command, 
[hat  orb  of  song  that  set  without  a  stain, 
[hen  rose  in  power  perpetual,  doth  remain 
fnshorn  of  glory,  destined  to  expand 
[upreme  o'er  Heaven  and  Hell,  voicing  the  grand 
Iceans  of  knowledge,  sacred  and  profane. 


(eside  the  laureled  Tuscan  doth  he  rest 
I'erlooking  all  the  worlds,  and  on  his  brow 
'he  amaranth  of  God,  the  poet's  vow, 
md  the  deep  love  for  England  in  his  breast. 
),  Sampson  of  our  Israel,  would  that  thou 
''ert  living  still  to  strike  for  earth's  oppressed  ! 


I 

i 


I 


if  'iit 


il 


^ 


D  R  Y  D  E  N 

There  sits  he  with  the  wits  around  his  chair, 

Sipping  his  cordial  or  his  cup  of  tea  ; 

Fair  primed  with  aphorisms  choice  or  free, 

The  "  glorious  John,"  who  trimmed  to  every  air  ! 

The  biggest  brawn  on  the  arena  there. 

He  shook  the  town  with  vauntings,  then  on  knee 

Bartered  his  birthright  for  a  huckster's  fee, 

And  thrust  his  muse  aneath  a  lordling's  care. 


Still  he  wrought  valiant  service  ;  none  that  day 
Might  bide  the  baited  gladiator's  blows ; 
His  ponderous  truncheon  crushed  the  foe  at  bay  ; 
How  grand  to  watch  him  on  McFlecnoe  close  ! 
The  drums  resound,  the  trumpets  loudly  bray 
I  As  down  the  age  that  lordly  galleon  goes  ! 

VIII 


:i« 


^ 


POPE 

Behold  the  foe  of  Grub  Street's  rival  schools, 
The  Richard  Crookback  of  the  kings  of  rhyme, 
Forging  firm  couplets  of  heroic  chime, 
And  routing  all  his  masters  at  their  rules ! 
How  full  an  arsenal  of  shining  tools 
He  brought  to  shape  his  fanciful  sublime. 
Spurning  each  proud  Mecaenas  of  the  time, 
And  shoving  all  th  i  dunces  from  their  stools  ! 


And  you  deny  him  greatness  ?    Would  to-day 

Your  acrobatic  bards  could  fill  his  place  ! 

His  art  and  range  were  bounded  ?     Who  can  sway 

More  forceful  measures  in  a  narrow  space  ? 

Yield  him,  O  Fame,  thy  brightest  three-leaved  bay. 

Mind,  manners,  modes — the  Horace  of  his  race  ! 

IX 


I? 


He 


Th 


BURNS 

He  was  my  earliest,  nearest,  sweetest  friend  ! 
His  songs  starred  all  my  firmament  of  dreams  ; 
Through  them  I  caught  the  first  auroral  gleams 
Of  Her  whose  smile  will  haunt  me  to  the  end. 
There  was  my  gold,  the  gold  I  might  not  spend ; 
There  was  my  heaven,  a  heaven  of  earthly  beams  ; 
I  heard  that  rapture  flowing  like  the  streams  ; 
I  heard  the  Loves  their  rhythmic  voices  blend. 


Ye  banks  of  Ayr,  how  happy  "should  ye  be 
Whereon  the  feet  of  your  dear  minstrel  trod ! 
For  even  the  sun,  methinks,  more  tenderly 
Than  other  turf  must  kiss  your  lowly  sod. 
O  happy  Scotland,  earth  doth  envy  thee 
Thy  kingly  ploughman,  thy  disguised  God  ! 

X 


SCOTT 

Those  broad  bright  Marches,  Ballad  and  Romance, 
Never  were  ruled  by  baron  bold  like  thee  ! 
No  knight  to  Throne  or  Beauty  bent  the  knee 
With  more  proud-souled  devotion  in  his  glance. 
All  stately  as  the  Lillies  of  Old  France 
The  banner  of  thy  Fancy  floated  free. 
O'er  damsels,  gallants,  clansmen,  monkish  glee. 
Pageants  and  courts,  and  tourney's  crash  of  lance. 


It  gathered  brilliance  from  auroral  skies ; 

It  pictured  Love,  his  dole  and  holiday  ; 

Widely  it  blazed  dread  deeds  of  high  emprise, 

Or  flung  forth  wassail,  feud,  and  gramarye  ; 

Or  caught  the  gleam  and  glint  of  targe  and  glaive, 

Andble^v  to  Border  gales  and  v^atchedthe  tartans  v^ave! 

XI 


' 


■-  ^fc*--- 


I 


BYRON 

O  Fame,  thy  laurels  graced  a  blighted  pall ! 

'Twas  Death's  and  Fortune's  pact  with  envious  Time. 

The  vine-wreathed  Titan,  clothed  with  power  sublime. 

Almost  accomplished  Heaven  ;  defying  all. 

He  braved  the  levin  and  the  thunder-brawl 

Scaling  the  cliffs  of  Song  ;  his  rebel  prime 

Pelion  on  Ossa  planted ;  then  with  rhyme 

Transcendent  on  his  lips  reeled  down  the  wall. 


He  fell,  hard-fighting ;  dire  the  clash  and  clang 
Earth  heard  through  all  her  limits — then  sleek  jays 
Piped  chattering  funeral,  and  the  charnel  kites 
Fed  on  the  warm,  proud  heart ;  but  wide  outrang. 
Sweet  Poesy,  thy  plaint  along  the  ways, 
Nor,  Time,  shalt  thou  withhold  him  tribute  rites  1 

XII 


;    i 


L      j 


'^ 


k 


J 


i^- 


KEATS 

Just  as  the  earliest  flowers  began  to  blow, 

(He  felt  the  daisies  growing  o'er  his  grave) 

His  fevered  heart  found  rest ;  those  grasses  wave 

Unconscious  o'er  the  form  that  sleeps  below ; 

Yet  there  the  •'  rathe  primroses  "  surely  know, 

And  tender  violets  (howsoever  rave 

The  rude  winds  o'er  his  slumber)  that  he  gave 

Them  human  love  in  human  hearts  to  grow. 


His  "  name  was  writ  in  water  ?  "  still  'tis  called 

By  every  dryad's  ghost  that  mournful  fleets! 

That  name  through  earth  and  heaven  hath  been  extolled; 

That  name  the  Summer's  requiem  repeats  ; 

But  he,  with  charms  of  Faery  deep  enthralled, 

Hears  no  dull  earth-tones  echoing  «*  where  is  Keats  !  '* 

XIII 


M 


Ig'IW^HIL    ■.!' 


.   >;u.l>*i4^:^. 


SHELLEY 

To  shore  the  sea-nymphs  buoyed  their  captive  dead, 
Touched  by  a  human  grief;  yes,  there  lay  hand, 
Heart,  lip,  and  brain  of  that  august  command. 
All — save  the  soul  that  Heaven  to  music  wed. 
Clung  curling  yet  the  pale  locks  round  the  head  ; 
Silent  and  prone  upon  the  drifted  sand. 
He  clasped  her  still,  his  loved  Italian  land. 
The  foster-mother  to  whose  breast  he  fled. 


We  raised  him  on  the  pyre — in  one  great  shine 
The  body  reached  the  beckoning  shade — 'twas  meet. 
That  which  had  given  the  flaming  soul  a  shrine 
Should  incorrupt  as  that  bright  soul  retreat ; 
Yet,  heart  of  proof,  thy  substance  still  divine, 
Lingering  in  earthly  love,  lay  at  our  feet ! 

XIV 


I 


i 


Ui 


•"•filSSSSSB 


i 


COLERIDGE 

Thy  mind  and  heart — the  dome  of  Kubla  Khan  ! 
These  twain  were  wed,  like  mountain  joined  to  sea, 
In  lofty,  broad,  cloud-merged  sublimity, 
With  toneo  that  awe  yet  soothe  the  soul  of  man. 
From  Earth  to  Heaven  thy  circling  vision  ran, 
Yet,  free  in  thought,  thyself  thou  could' st  not  free ; 
The  Knight  of  Poesy,  enchained  in  thee. 
Slept  on  his  arms  and  dreamed  his  daring  plan. 


Yet  Truth,  divined  in  dreams,  blooms  best  in  Art ; 
One  dream,  O  mystic,  blown  within  thy  mind. 
Thy  Mariner's  tale,  of  Love's  own  life  a  part, 
This  fadeless  bay- wreath  doth  thy  temples  bind ; 
This  magic  banner  floats  to  every  wind — 
One  cross  of  service  blazoned  on  thy  heart ! 

XV 


I' 


■•^ 


I 


WORDSWORTH 

The  presences  of  woods  informed  his  soul ; 

His  Muse  was  taught  of  winds  and  murmuring  streams; 

Across  his  vision  broke  Love's  rarest  gleams, 

And  English  faith  held  o'er  him  proud  control. 

He  was  Truth's  eremite  with  beechen  bowl ; 

The  wayside  life  and  legend  shaped  his  themes, 

Borne  softly  through  his  mountain  realm  of  dreams. 

But  round  those  heights  rang  Freedom's  trumpet-roll. 


Prophet  and  priest  and  bard— the  humble  throng 

He  loved  and  voiced,  from  the  great  Mother  drew 

His  litanies  and  choruses ;  the  blue 

Of  Heaven  and  green  of  Earth  illumed  his  song. 

The  Joshua,  he,  of  Israel's  chosen  few. 

And  of  his  peers  the  Godfrey  chaste  and  strong. 

XVI 


H 


fi 


! 


M 


I  ! 


HOOD 

There,  midst  his  children's  noisy,  prattling  play, 
Hard  by  the  dusty  city's  iron  clang, 
Like  Theseus  shod  with  wings,  from  earth  he  sprang 
And  soared  untrammeled  through  the  azure  day. 

That  plumed  Fancy  oared  its  joyous  way 
O'er  magic  oceans  where  the  mermaids  sang  ; 
Then  veered  once  more  whc:  e  human  voices  rang 
Of  Love,  Want,  Crime,  and  Boyhood's  happy  day. 


Alas,  again  the  pack-horbe  of  the  Press, 

He  folded  close  his  pinions'  glistering  pride. 

And  to  the  mill  of  jesting  Rhyme  was  tied. 

To  strain  his  heart-strings  in  that  vile  duress ; 

Yet  still  the  ignoble  task  he  glorified — 

Through  that  sad  mirth  still  flashed  his  loveliness ! 

XVII 


'  I 


1 


B 

A 
F( 


-i^^m a  \  r 


SCHILLER 

Both  lyric  wreath  and  Thespian  crown  were  thine, 

And  thine  the  Germans'  pledge  from  mount  to  sea; 

For  thy  first  thought,  to  make  the  people  free, 

Was  for  those  hungering  souls  Love's  corn  and  wine. 

The  hapless  Mary's  hope  illumes  thy  line. 

While  Wallenstein's  dark  form  abides  with  me 

Since,  when  a  lad,  I  laid  upon  my  knee 

Thy  heart,  all  throbbing  through  its  leathern  shrine. 


The  nations'  tocsin  thine  !  Thy  Bell  is  heard 

On  distant  shores  scarce  known  to  thee  by  name  ; 

The  deathless  cadence  of  Tell's  dauntless  word. 

Hath  wed  the  Switzer's  Fatherland  to  fame ; 

While  Swabian  youths,  by  thy  bold  measures  stirred, 

Their  proud  old  Eberhard's  liberties  proclaim  ! 

XVIII 


I 


I 


1 

in 


i 


GOETHE 

The  great  Age  crowns  thee— then  no  chaplet  may 

Enrich  thy  brow,  much  less  this  wreath  I  twine, 

O  Liberator  Soul !     Thou  dost  define 

And  hold  life's  secrets  in  wise-guarded  sway; 

And  yet  thy  art  looms  amplest,  and  thy  lay 

Pours  forth  enlightening  flame ;  and  as  the  Rhine 

Ripples  to  sea,  thy  human-pulsing  line 

Speeds  world  round,  broadening  its  imperial  way. 


Goetz,  Wilhelm  Meister,  Faust— no  haughtier  themes 
By  wizard  genius  e'er  conceived  or  penned  ! 
These  will  not  cease  ••  to  feed  our  lake  of  dreams," 
Nor  will  churl  Time  outbrave  them  at  the  end. 
Thought — Love— inwoven  thus  thy  laurel  gleams ; 
Poet  and  Seer — yea,  wisest,  truest  Friend ! 

XIX 


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BERANGER 

(At  the  Coronation  of  Charles  X.). 

Yes,  there  he  stands — you  mark  him  down  the  street, 

Yon  dream-eyed,  little,  bald,  round-shouldered  man  ! 

While  Paris  thrums  her  live-long  rataplan 

Of  loud  huzzas  and  million-surging  feet. 

Tyrtaeus  bold  is  he,  Catullus  sweet ! 

Or  well  had  passed  in  Tempo's  Vale  for  Pan 

In  modern  garb  ;  draw  nearer  now  and  scan 

The  form  of  one  whom  kings  have  feared  to  meet ! 

Ay,  sirs,  here  is  the  king!    That  shape  who  goes. 
All  drums  and  trappings  merely  stuffs  the  crown ; 
Here  rusty  black  and  there  the  ermine  shows ; 
The  throne's  a  candle  for  our  clerk's  renown  ; 
His  galley  toward  the  hungry  Maelstrom  rows  ; 
Thy  shallop  storms  nor  hidden  rocks  may  drown ! 

XX. 


T 


m 


T 


•F^LI 


'>i^:''  V' 


P  t 


HUGO 

Though  banished,  Prospero,  to  thy  mid-sea  isle, 
Power  thou  retaind'st  most  ample  ;   thou  could'st  call 
Thy  choiring  Ariel,  or  sea-monsters  haul 
From  sounding  caves  by  magic's  strenuous  wile. 
Or  storms  unchain,  or  make  the  ocean  smile, 
Holding  the  hearts  and  minds  of  men  in  thrall ; 
Yet  Jeanne,  Miranda,  dearer  far  than  all 
Thy  art,  could  aye  thy  darkest  hour  beguile. 


Beyond  the  surge  thy  natal  dukedom  lay, 
Dominion  of  brave  hearts  ;  thy  dreaming  eye 
Watched  with  paternal  longing  day  by  day, 
Its  outline,  where  pale  shadows  rise  and  die, 
'Till  fell  the  usurper  ;  then  resumed  thy  sway, 
And  freed  thy  passionate  slaves  of  sea  and  sky. 

XXI. 


■  1 

i 


i; 


I 


TENNYSON 

Thy  fame  stands  wide  as  England's  !     If  I  lay 
One  song-wreath  at  thy  feet,  'tis  not  to  grace 
So  much  thy  triumphs,  or  thy  high-throned  place 
Amongst  the  minstrels  of  the  modern  day. 
As  to  confess  thy  erstwhile  sovereign  sway 
O'er  my  affections ;  thine  was  once  a  space 
Near  Shakespere  ;  if  thy  lushness  cloy  apace. 
Thy  charm  may  change  but  cannot  pass  away. 


Thou  art  our  own  King  Arthur — I,  a  knight 
Unscutcheoned,  speeding  for  the  lists  of  fame  ; 
Content  to  win,  when  proved,  some  slight  acclaim 
From  lips  like  thine  ;  unwilling  most  to  fail 
In  service  and  in  vigil ;  armor  bright 
Besumeth  him  who  quests  the  Holy  Grail. 

XXII. 


1^ 


1 


! 


li 


(V        \ 


BROWNING 

The  tangled  currents  of  the  rhythmic  seas 

Stream  through  thy  song  with  many  a  swirl  and  sweep  ; 

With  storm  and  cloud  and  sunshine  o'er  the  deep, 

And  bright  waves  lapping  to  the  variant  breeze. 

Thou  hast  conned  secrets  'tween  Jove's  mighty  knees, 

And  kenned  the  vision  of  life's  toiling  steep, 

And  heard  the  strong  men  groan,  the  women  weep, 

And  drank  earth's  gloom  and  glory  to  the  lees. 


What  though  thy  careless  hand  hath  jarred  the  strings. 

Thy  harp  still  rings  to  Thought  and  Beauty  true  ; 

Though  from  Italian  earth  thy  phoenix  springs, 

Her  gaze  strikes  over  to  the  English  blue. 

0,  teacher,  brave  and  wise,  the  proudest  things 

Of  Faith  and  Love,  through  fire  have  come  from  you ! 

XXIII. 


5 


ARNOLD 


The  World  denied  thee  gold — Heaven  gave  thee  verse; 
A  burst  of  morn  on  Learning's  peaks  of  snow  ! 
Under  sweeps  ever  Emotion's  tidal  flow 
Where  Love  her  luminous  chalice  doth  immerse. 
Nature  and  Art,  these  twain,  thy  mother  and  nurse. 
Formed  thee  to  live,  through  thy  grand  age  to  grow ; 
Sonorous,  pure,  their  mingled  clarions  blow, 
Unchecked  by  Time  or  Change,  above  thy  hearse. 

Sohrab  and  Rustem,  Tristram,  Marguerite*  - 

The  t-wain  of  Homer's  large,  authentic  breed; 

The  third,  Love's  Knight,  faithful  in  word  and  deed  ; 

The  last,  Love's  perfect  flower — a  kindred  sweet ! 

These  for  thy  fame,  O  royal  palmer,  plead, 

And  lay  their  chaplets  blooming  at  thy  feet ! 

XXIV. 


I 


\'-> 


■t 


•<  t 


I 


i  ^ 


fr"! 


»ii 


1 


BAYARD     TAYLOR 

Here  find  the  poet's  scrip,  -his  ready  pen, 
The  staff  of  service  on  his  pilgrim  round, 
Now  laid  aside ;  for  he  in  sleep  is  bound, 
No  more  to  wander  through  the  ways  of  men  ; 
But  ''hese  his  furnishings,  ingathered  when 
He  traveled  all  Arcadia's  laurelled  ground. 
The  cheer  and  nurture  of  his  journey  found. 
He  hath  bequeathed  them  to  the  world  again. 


Herein  note  Love,  his  crust  of  daily  bread, 
Romance,  his  flask  of  wine,  and  Reverie  sweet. 
The  rich-chased  missal  brought  from  Orient  clime ; 
Here  also  Hope,  his  belt,  and  from  his  head 
His  scallop-shell  of  Fancy;  from  his  feet 
The  rythmic  sandals  of  his  passion.  Rhyme ! 

XXV. 


(1 


fll 


AiiiHMiifaMteMiuUlKiiataAiditt 


*l^ 


/"( 


/ 


L 


h^^S 


MillMiiiMiayiiikiiiMbMi 


EMERSON 

Voice  of  the  deeps  thou  art !     But  not  the  wild, 
Ungoverned  mouthing  of  the  wind-lashed  waves  ; 
Nor  yet  the  dirge  of  billows  over  graves, 
But  crooning,  like  a  mother  o'er  her  child. 
Through  thee  gross  earth  with  heaven  is  reconciled, 
Thy  songs,  like  anthems  through  cathedral  naves 
Dispel  confusing  passion  ;  never  raves 
The  storm  along  thy  cloisters  undefiled. 

Light  of  the  deeps  thou  art !  as  forth  I  glide, 
From  rock  and  whirlpool  far,  and  tempest's  roar, 
Sudden  there  looms  an  ever  verdurous  shore. 
Whose  towers  in  the  still  wave  stand  glorified, 
Where  thou,  the  Virgil,  who  hast  been  my  guide, 
Lead'st  me  and  leiv'st  me  rapt,  at  Heaven's  door! 
XXVI. 


VLX 


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f 


!;l 


1 1 
I ' 


^Bl! 


I 


i 


Ml 


.-'•^^N, 


^t^J^ 


LONGFELLOW 

The  New- World's  sweetest  singer!     Time  may  lay 

Rude  touch  on  some,  thy  betters,  yet  for  thee. 

Thy  seat  is  where  the  throned  immortals  be, 

The  chaste  affections  answering  to  thy  sway. 

As  fair,  as  fresh  as  children  of  the  May, 

Thy  verse  springs  up  from  wood  and  sun-bathed  lea. 

Yet  oft  the  rhythmic  cadence  of  the  sea 

Rolls  'neath  thy  song  and  speeds  its  shining  way. 

Thy  borrowed  robes,  even,  thou  wear'st  with  grace  ; 
Such  grace  our  English  buckram  seldom  yields  ; 
Through  thee  the  grave  Italian  takes  his  place 
Among  us  ;  but  across  Acadian  fields 
Who  is  it  moves  with  rapt  and  pensive  face  ? 
Evangeline,  his  heart  thy  love  reveals  ! 

XXVII.  ! 


i 


'i 


i 


f 


/ 


LOWELL 

Poet,  who  bore  thy  crown  of  seventy  years 

As  greenly  as  the  chaplet  of  thy  lays, 

Who  from  thy  throne  of  thought  o'erlooked  the  maze 

Of  human  life,  high  lifting  midst  thy  peers 

Heaven-lighted  minstrel  brows,  no  envious  shears 

Of  fate  may  clip  thy  laurels,  but  the  bays 

Fame  will  twine  with  them,  grow  through  winter  days. 

Sunned  in  our  smiles  and  watered  v^ith  our  tears. 

Not  to  the  craftsman  merely,  nor  the  calm. 
Keen-sighted  critic,  nor  the  patriot  stirred 
With  passion,  do  our  grateful  hearts  belong — 
But  to  the  new  Crusader  with  his  palm 
And  cross  of  valiant  service,  viewed  and  heard 
Through  the  long,  vow-knit  vigil  of  his  song. 

XXVIII. 


1 


,: 


W  H  I  T  T  I  E  R 

Thy  call  was  Freedom's  loudest-'neath  that  blast 
(Down  crashed  the  walls  of  Slavery's  Jericho  ! 
(Beware,  ye  proud,  the  fighting  Quaker's  blow, 
When  once  he  strikes  ye  well  may  stand  aghast ! ) 
Now  all  those  storms  are  far  forspent  and  past. 
Thy  martial  trumpet  forth  intuned  to  peace, 
While  still  to  bring  the  courts  of  Heaven  increase. 
Those  olive  blooms  of  song  abroad  were  cast. 

O,  strong  and  faithful  watchman-may  this  state 
In  memory  long  that  lifted  warning  keep  ! 
Thy  strenuous  voice  hath  given  us  bonds  to  fate ; 
We  dread  no  harm  while  we  thy  blessing  reap  ; 
Old  age,  'twas  never  thine-a  warm,  sedate, 
A  mellow  sunset  brooded  o'er  thy  sleep  ! 
XXIX. 


I 


K 


If 


*«•*>«•*  i^iMnM^i 


*c^ 


.-.«:?5>^ 


.^ 


WHITMAN 

In  him,  prophetic  mind  and  cosmic  heart 
With  common  human  speech  were  rt  conciled, 
Heed  not  the  jargon  tongue,  the  phrase  defiled, 
The  roughened  hand,  ignonng  forms  of  art. 
Nay,  from  his  breast  what  yearning  sighs  depart ! 
Hark  how  those  vibrant  tones  grow  pure  and  mild  ! 
While  with  the  boundless  impulse  of  the  Child 
His  Earth-song  rises  and  the  echoes  start. 

What  sentient  wind  makes  answer  ?      'Tis  thy  breath 
Borne  round  these  shores,  O  Queen  Democracy ! 
Such  of  those  souls  who  throned  thee,  kept  thee  free ; 
Of  such  their  faith  more  potent  far  than  death  : 
Ay,  not  in  vain  !  whate'er  the  Preacher  saith. 
The  horn  of  Odin  blows  and  men  are  free  ! 

XXX. 


J' 


tf> 


Ill 


LI 


WKBaammmm' 


MORRIS 

Chaucer  and  Spenser,  gather  him  to  your  heart, 

The  burly  Radical  of  dreamy  rhyme  ! 

And  crown  him  with  the  Trouvere's  bay  sublime, 

That  ne'er  till  now  had  graced  the  British  mart ; 

For  even  to  him  the  story-teller's  art 

Came  glamorous  out  of  Fancy's  buoyant  clime. 

The  mintage  of  that  golden  ore  of  time 

From  the  world's  childhood ;  for  he  voiced  in  part 

Your  mid-sea  swaying  melodies,  the  breath 

Of  pastoral  lands,  of  flowery  meads,  and  meres. 

And  your  pale,  poignant  picturing  of  death. 

And  your  dear,  tender  ruth  for  love  in  tears. 

No  idle  singer,  he,  whate'er  he  saith; 

His  pilgrim  torch  relumes  the  shadowed  years  ! 

XXXI. 


'\ 


R 


I) 


KIPLING 

The  East  hath  reared  her  Viking !  lo.  he  comes 
Laurelled  with  victory  to  the  purpled  West, 
Voicing  the  proud,  vexed  century's  unrest. 
With  fifes,  harps,  sackbuts,  psalteries,  and  drums. 
His  galley,  pitched  with  rare  and  odorous  gums, 
Floats  far  the  Dragon  o'er  the  billow's  crest ; 
'Neath  bellying  sail  his  round  world  keel  is  pressed  ; 
The  Empire  trade-wind  through  its  cordage  hums. 

No  vassal  laureate  he !  he  wears  the  crown 
Of  English  hearts,  the  roses  never  sere  ; 
The  rooted  loves  that  bloom  in  bold  renown  ; 
Those  sheaves  of  promise  ripening  in  the  ear  ; 
The  pledge  of  birthright  nations  !  'gainst  the  frown 
Of  Fate  herself,  stands  England's  faith  writ  clear ! 
XXXII. 


).J.. 


1 

t': 

.(  '■ 


I 


ii 


'i^i 


^ 


I.. 


I 


i 


1 


i 


MISTRAL 

O  fair  Provence,  thou  land  of  corn  and  wine !  } 

Provence,  thou  sweet,  sweet  home  of  Love  and  Song! 

In  arts,  in  arms,  in  princely  feeling  strong. 

Once  more  the  dream  of  Poesy  is  thine  ! 

Thine  is  the  latest  Troubadour  whose  line 

From  Ronsard  runs  in  honor ;  of  that  throng 

King  gleeman,  who  still  wind  their  pipes  along 

From  towered  Avignon  to  Camargue's  blue  brine. 

Mereio,  of  Death  the  dearest  bride, 
Thy  love  and  grief  for  aye,  for  aye  are  sung ! 
The  Homer  of  his  cherished  vineyard  side. 
His  heart  still  tender,  bountiful,  and  young, 
Swells  bold  with  song,  with  more  than  Roman  pride— 
The  brave  Horatius  of  his  native  tongue  ! 
XXXIII. 


(7 


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L  'ENVOI 

To  Sha.ktspere. 

If  I  ha'be  earned  some  fa'vour  of  good  men. 

Or  if  my  song  hold  aught  of  just  or  true. 

This  happy  fortune  to  thy  grace  is  due. 

Who  things  unseen  hast  brought  within  my  ken  ; 

Who  hast  redeemed  my  shallom)  courses  %hen 
Iivould  run  glittering  on  the  public  vie^iu. 
And  led'st  me  into  quiet  fields  ane^. 
And  turned' st  me  safe  from  many  a  noisome  fen, 

I  fly  to  thee  ivhen  ivounded,  m>orn,  and  faint, 

cAnd  thou  upholdest  me  against  thy  knee  ; 

Thy  'bolume  is  my  rubric  ;  no  attaint 

Dwells  in  its  page,  nor  no  absurd  decree. 

Companion,  guide,  then  friend— 'habile  Love's  acquaint 

With  Life,  thy  %ords  sustain  me,  make  me  free  I 


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